


Friendsgiving

by bleumysti



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Holidays, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:57:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleumysti/pseuds/bleumysti
Summary: In which Ginny tries her hand at Thanksgiving dinner. Livan is along for the ride. Mike crashes the party, and it all ends with the Sanders family taking in more strays. Happy Thanksgiving.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because if I started a Friendsgiving Tumblr post, it's only right if I actually follow through with it.
> 
> Enjoy. Or not. Either way let me know.

"You see something you like mami?" Livan flashed her that cocky grin of his, as he increased the speed on the treadmill. 

He gestured at his pecs and abs, exposed for all to see. She learned quickly that Livan wasn't a fan of wearing clothes, and at any given moment the whole locker room was subjected to his rock hard abs, athletic calves, or impossibly toned ass.

"I don't blame you, lots of girls can't resist," his eyes darted in her direction drinking in her reaction, because she also learned he got off on flustering people. "Some guys can't either." He winked.

She shook her head at him, and hurled a paperball at his head. It bounced off the bill of his snap back and hit the floor.

"You sure you're a pitcher, chica?" He teased. That time she got the smirk with the Duarte dimple. His special.

"Shut up!" She finished the water in her bottle as she sidled up to him and draped herself across the front of the treadmill. She eyed him for a long moment, until his piercing dark eyes bored into her and he raised a brow in question.

"What are you doing on Thursday?" She hoped he didn't hear the hesitancy in her voice, but he picked up on more than most people gave him credit for.

"Why?" He slowed down to a walking pace on the treadmill and stared at her until she squirmed. 

She didn't know why she was so embarrassed. One thing about Livan was he took to her no problem, and always seemed to be willing to do whatever she asked of him no questions asked. They clicked instantly...had a bond, she couldn't quite describe. They were fast friends, and for some reason, she was the only one on the team he actually let in.

"It's Thanksgiving...and," she exhaled, put on her 'conquer the world' face and stared him down. "I'm going to have a Thanksgiving dinner. A Friendsgiving. And your ass better come."

He looked down at her, amused. "I don't get why you guys celebrate the last meal before a genocide."  
She furrowed her brow, unable to dispute him. "I like food."

He shrugged. "Me too, mami. I hope your ass can cook."  
She snapped her towel on his ass. "Just for that, you're gonna be my sous chef."

He chuckled. "Whatever you say, Bonita."  
"That's what I thought, papi." She called over her shoulder as she left.

~~~

She didn't expect Livan to come to her suite at the buttcrack of dawn, but she forgot he stayed down the road from her. Hours later she found herself staring at a burnt small turkey, soupy sweet potato pie, and a host of other bordering on disastrous dishes.

She was sweaty, cranky , and starving. She was pretty sure she broke a mixer. There had also been a fire. Just one. A small one. Barely anything to sniff at, really. None of her dishes came out quite like she had planned, but Livan's did. That dimpled bastard just casually whipped up ropa vieja and a side of fried plantains like it was nothing. But no worries, it wasn't nearly as good as his abuela's.

"I'm not sure if any of this tastes any good," she huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her eye.

"Not true," Livan assured her. He was sitting on the counter with a plate of cranberry sauce in his hand, kicking his feet like a toddler. "Thisshh ish good," he managed around a mouthful of maroon gelatin.  
"It came out of a can, Duarte."

"But you sliced it really well," he tried to keep a straight face, but his lips twitched.

She glared at him and was about to give him a piece of her mind , but there was a knock on the door.  
"Get that, " she ordered him as she swatted at his leg prompting him to hop off the counter. "I'll try to salvage some of this." 

The frown she made must have been pathetic or adorable, because he tussled her hair and muttered something in Spanish on his way to opening the door.

"Duarte," Mike nodded in greeting.

"Cap," Livan replied.

"Now that you boys got that outta the way." She rolled her eyes at theit macho rivalry they still hadn't let go of. Then she groaned when she realized she left the bag of organs inside the charred bird.

"Things are going about as well as I expected," Mike scrunched his nose up at the soupy mashed potatoes.

"Things might have gone better if you came when I asked you to, Old Man. At least Duarte was here to help."

"Help what? Put out the fire?" He grinned when she winced at his astute comment, and he distracted himself using a fork to steal a bite of the ropa vieja. 

"This is actually good."

"Duarte made it," she responded sweetly, inwardly snickering at Mike's grunt as he dropped the fork on the counter. "Here that papi? Mikey likes it."

"Obviamente, mami," Duarte's smug expression and Mike's glare was enough to make her snort.

"Livan actually came early and helped, unlike some people..."

"Ha, I knew most of what you made would probably be inedible, I've watched you burn eggs...eggs! I figured I'd come in and save your ass in the end."

"You bring a smorgasbord of food I'm not seeing or something?" She crossed her arms, defensive.

"Oh, I can make a mean bird, Rookie. But no, I called dibs on Christmas..no, New Years. I'll show you my skills then." He turned a pan of Mac and cheese upside down and marveled at its inability to fall out.  
"Yeah, you're doing what I do on holidays when I don't feel like spending them alone, which is what you were expected to do from the beginning..."

She raised her brow, waiting for him to finish. Livan went back to eating the plate of cranberry sauce like his life depended on it. She probably should stock up on snacks next time she invites someone over.

"C'mon rookie...s," he begrudgingly amended, when he realized it would be in poor taste to not acknowledge the cocky Cuban. "Evelyn will have my balls if we're late."

"You say that like you're afraid of her," she teased him as she grabbed her jacket.

"You say that like you're not," he quipped back, giving her his trademark smirk. "He can come along," he nodded at Livan. "But he's sitting in the back."

Livan snorted, looked at Ginny as if to say "do you believe this guy?" and gathered some of his things. Not all of them, she noted. Lawson noticed it too, based on the way he narrowed his eyes. They were such children, both of them.

"And we're bringing this," Mike reluctantly grabbed the ropa vieja like it physically pained him to acknowledge that it was good. "And these," he muttered as he grabbed the plantains too.

Mike darted out the suite without saying anything more, and Livan with his pantheresque swagger, was not far behind. She wondered how she would survive the car ride to the Sanders home with the both of them.

~~~

"Estupido pendejo!" Livan shouted at the flat screen, a game console in hand. The Sanders twins giggled, and she swatted Livan's shoulder.

"Hey," Evelyn scolded as she set the silverware on the dining room table. "Language, Livan!"

"Lo siento, mamita."

She snickered, because about ten seconds after meeting her, Evelyn already had some kind of hold on Livan. He actually looked apologetic.

"I knew we were taking one stray in, probably two, but how did we end up hosting three of you?" Blip asked. 

"Baker's fault, not mine," Mike took a long swig of his beer as he watched the rowdy bunch arguing over a video game in the living room. "And since when have I been a stray?"

"Since when have you not been a stray?" Blip countered. He used his "I Kiss the Cook" apron to open his own beer and took a swig.

"Touché."

"The kids table is bigger than the adult table," Blip whined. "We're outnumbered!"

"Oh hush," Evelyn smacked Blip in the back of the head as she passed him. She headed back into the kitchen to gather the rest of the dishes.

"As long as Livan makes dishes like this, he's always welcome in my home," Evelyn grinned as she put both of his dishes on the dining room table.

"I'll give you whatever you want, mamita," Livan called out. He took his eyes off the game briefly and winked at Evelyn.

"C'mon, man, that's my wife," Blip stated, as if anyone in the room doubted him. "Must you really flirt with everything in a skirt?"

"Not just a skirt," Livan clarified giving Blip a wink too. "Besides, I'm Cuban."

She collapsed into Livan, laughing hysterically, and somewhere she heard Evelyn's giggling, and Mike choking on his beer.

"Wash up for dinner everyone!" Evelyn called out. "No running in the house!" She added when she heard the stampede to the bathroom.

"You were so cheating!" One of the twins had made it his mission to argue with her the entire time back to the table.

"No I didn't," she contested as she settled into a seat.

She turned around and saw Livan bringing up the rear, with the other twin slung over his back, piggy- back style. 

"Alright hop off now mijo," he patted the boy on the leg. "We'll figure out a plan later," he whispered conspiratorially as the kid nodded covertly.

"How he just gon call my child his son...That's my son." Blip grumbled under his breath, much to the amusement of everyone.

"Livan," Evelyn warned, brow cocked. "Hat."

"Right, my bad mamita," he blushed as he took the snap back off and hung it from the back of the chair.

She looked around the table, at all the food, and all of the people who had become her own family, and she smiled. 

"I just," she cleared her throat trying to speak over the lump in her throat. Mike stared at her, eyes as intense as ever, and she knew, he knew...he knew what she was feeling. His eyes were warm and he gave her a brief smile that was just for her.

"I just want to say, thank you for having me, and I'm just really grateful to spend the holiday with people who mean so much to me." She nodded, as if physically confirming the sentiment. "Anyway, when do we start eating? I'm starved."

"When aren't you Aunt Ginny?" One of the twins said as everyone laughed.

"I think that's the one I like," Mike joked, pointing at one of the boys.

"Heyyyy, what about me Uncle Mike?" The other scrunched his face, offended. 

"You're my favorite too," Mike whispered, just for him.

"I thought I was your favorite Uncle Mike?" She gave him a cheesy grin.

"You're a pain in my ass, Rookie, that's what you are," Mike shot back.

"You sure that's not just one of your usual ailments, Old Man?"

"Ha, ha" Mike made a face. "Are we gonna eat or not? The food is about to get cold!" He cleared his throat, "Pass me some of that, uh, rope stuff."  
~~~


End file.
